by James Fuller
“Pack for the road,” Ursa said once they were far enough away and the engineer had gone off on his own, to find his crew.
“What?” Talena asked.
“Where do ye wanna meet, wizard?” Rift asked, knowing full well what Ursa had planned from the beginning.
“Meet in the pump room…as soon as you two are ready.”
Ursa entered his room, closing the door quickly; he hated the thought of having to leave the castle’s fate to chance now. There was so much more at stake than what could be seen - he could feel it and he could see it, hidden behind Talena’s eyes. This was bigger than any of them. He knew it was going to be a long, hard journey and wondered just how many dangers they would encounter as he packed his leather bag. After a pause, he grabbed what coin he had left in his desk.
He pulled the leather straps tight as his eyes darted over to his desk, to the drawer that held the pouch of Venenum. He walked over to the desk, his hands fidgeting with some random papers as he wrestled with his conscience. Finally, he pulled the drawer open and retrieved the pouch. He knew if he continued to take it he would become hopelessly addicted to it again - as he had so many years before - but he could not see any way around it now. He needed to be strong enough to do what was needed and this was the only way he knew.
Ursa grabbed two empty vials and filled the bottoms with the powdered drug and added just enough water for the murky powder to dilute. He held both vials in his hand and summoned his innate ability, heating the water to steaming point so the Venenum’s powerful toxins would be freed. He cooled the vials just as quickly and corked the tops. He slipped the pouch into his large belt pocket and left his room, but did not go down to the pump room – first, he had to talk to the other wizards.
“What is this?” Lepha asked when Ursa handed her and Antiel two vials full of a murky liquid.
“Use it when you must - it will help intensify your abilities when your powers are weak.” Ursa replied, hoping neither knew what he spoke of.
Lepha’s eyes went wide in realization, almost dropping the vials. “This is Venenum! Why would you offer such a thing? Why do you even possess such a thing?” Lepha gasped.
Ursa knew this was going to happen, but he did not have time to explain it all. “I do not have time to answer all your questions and concerns - you will need it. For the sake of every soul in this castle, use it when you must.”
“Venenum is extremely dangerous, Ursa, and addictive.” Lepha said before Ursa had moved away.
“I am well aware of every property and effect it has - I also know the risks.” Ursa replied. “Sometimes you have to put yourself at risk for the sake of others. Lady Jewel and everyone else in this castle are counting on you. Do what you must, when you must,” Ursa finished bluntly.
“What do you mean us? Where are you going Ursa? You cannot leave!” Antiel cried, looking from Ursa to Lepha.
“When you must, use it and lead them out of the castle with the new escape route, it is the only way to survive. If the walkway is not finished, use your Gift to finish it with ice.” He walked away to meet with the others before they could object.
“There ye are wizard, thought ya might have chickened out,” Rift said, with a hearty chuckle.
“The workers have already started widening the tunnel leading down and supplies are slowly being fed down to the small landing - construction is underway.” Talena said, hoisting her pack on to her shoulders. “They are wasting no time.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Ursa replied.
“Ursa, stop right now!” Lady Jewel commanded and Ursa and the others stopped in place. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Ursa turned to her with a slight dreadful look on his face. “I am sorry, but we must go Jewel - Nicolette’s fate is on the line and so is Draco Kingdom’s ruling blood line. I could not save Borrack, but I still have a chance to save his daughter,” Ursa replied but it was nearly a plea, “And hopefully a failing country. I cannot explain and even if I could, you would not understand…but I must go.”
Lady Jewel glared intensely at him for several long moments, unsure of what she would do, then her glare softened. “Find her, Ursa, and make sure she is safe. By the Creator’s mercy, find a way to save this Kingdom… I beg of you!”
Ursa started off to the cavern again. “Jewel, when the time comes….use the escape. Do not try and hold the castle if you know you cannot - it is not worth the cost.”
Once they were down on the small ledge, Talena began to use her staff. She lowered it down to the water and beckoned her Gift forth. Within seconds, the water several paces around was ice, two arm-lengths thick and frozen to the sidewall of the cavern, so it would not shift. Talena focused her power so the water would freeze forward more than to the side and soon there was an ice bridge that went for a hundred yards.
“Step carefully and let us spread out and not concentrate all our weight in the same spot,” Ursa told them, not wanting any mishaps.
Rift picked up a long length of rope that had been brought down and he tied one end to himself, motioning for Ursa and Talena to do the same. “If one of us falls in, the others can pull them out safely,” He informed them. “Safety first.” Rift laughed out loud, his voice echoing throughout the tunnel.
Talena led the way, her staff pointed downwards so she could continue the ice bridge as they went. Ursa and Rift both carried torches; the light flickered and reflected off the smooth, rounded walls and running water, giving the cavern an eerie glow. Several times they had to stop because either Talena or Rift slipped and hit the ice.
It was not long before the group was already a mile away from where they had started. The underground river echoed loudly but was almost rhythmic and soothing after long.
Ursa tugged lightly on the rope to get Talena’s attention, so she would stop. “Do you taste that?” Ursa called and Rift inhaled deeply and nodded. The air was getting fresher and was not as stale and muggy as it had been, which meant an opening was ahead - Ursa motioned for Talena to continue.
It was not long after that the three came to a small opening in the side of the cavern wall, barely large enough for Talena to squeeze through.
“How are we goin’ to do this, wizard?” Rift asked, coming up to stand by him.
Ursa did not want to cause too much of a shift in the wall, in case it weakened the structure of the cavern, but he knew he had to make it big enough for the refugees that would be coming from the castle when it was time to escape. He placed his hands on either side of the small entranceway and focused hard, feeding his innate Gift into the solid, rocky earth. Slowly, the entrance began to expand, inch-by-inch, compacting the earth into itself and for over a dozen paces ahead of them. Once it was as wide as Ursa’s outstretched arms, he walked into the tunnel and continued widening until he came to the end. They were twenty paces above ground, overlooking the ground below, a rock face.
“Good thing we have that rope,” Talena said, looking over the edge while she untied herself.
Soon they were on the ground, stretching and letting their eyes refocus in the first rays of dawn, through the misty smoke. The sky was only slightly hazy - smoke from the fire that locked the Dragon Cove’s defenders in their castle spread before them in wisps instead of walls. They took long deep breaths of the fresher air that they had not had in many days.
“We have a long, hard trip ahead of us; we need to find some horses.” Ursa said a few moments after he figured out their whereabouts.
“Ah, I am ready for some hard traveling after being locked up in the smoky castle for the past half fortnight,” Rift replied, rolling his large broad shoulders and cracking his neck.
“I am glad we found a way out, my powers are all but worn out, and I would not have been able to keep going for much longer,” Talena admitted to them, not wanting to say anything earlier when she first started to feel weakened.
“Everyone be quiet!” Ursa whispered, straining his ears to listen, the sound of leaves
shifting unnaturally had his senses on alert.
“What is it?” Rift whispered, drawing his broad sword.
“I do not know, but it is coming from over there,” Ursa whispered back, pointing to a trio of tightly growing trees.
They spread out - Ursa took the center as they crept forward toward the sound. Ursa’s hand ignited with a small flame as he peered through the thick brush into the little hollow between the trees. A man lay within, near death.
Talena pushed forward, seeing the wounded stranger. “Are you all right?” Had it not been for Rift’s fast reflexes, she would have been impaled by a swiftly thrown dagger.
“Stay back or you will find that death is all that awaits you in here!” The man barked out at them weakly.
“You rotten, slimy cowson!” Rift growled in reply, about to run in when Ursa stopped him.
“We are not your enemies.” Ursa called to the injured man.
“That is what an enemy would say,” the man coughed back.
“We can help you; I promise we will not hurt you.” Talena called into the bushes.
“Why would you want to help me? You do not even know me, and besides I am beyond the help of a mere surgeon or physician,” he countered.
“Whatever, we have to go. Let the bastard die, if that is his wish, we have to save the Queen and the more time we waste, the less ground we cover,” Rift muttered.
“It just so happens that none of us are either a surgeon or a physician,” Ursa called back into the brush. “But two of us are Gifted.”
There was silence for quite a few moments, before a response came. “Who are you?” The man asked, slowly dragging himself out of his well-defended hiding spot.
“My name is Ursa.”
“I have heard of such a man. Would you be the same Ursa who had talks with King Borrack about abolishing the hunt against the Gift?”
Ursa nodded down to him. “I would be the very same.”
“And who might ye be?” Rift grumbled down at the tattered man while putting his sword away.
“My… my name… is Pavilion…” The man groaned in exhaustion as he collapsed at their feet, finally passing out.
*****
Lord Dagon stalked around the large campfire set in the middle of the defender’s encampment, buried deep in thought. The arrival of Lord Andras, and his six hundred battle-hardened soldiers had bolstered the camp and lifted the spirits of Lord Dagon’s weary men, who had suffered a great loss in the few days before. Dagon’s pride had gotten in the way of his judgment and far more men had died than should have. Good men, men he had known for years, had trained himself. Men he had known by name; some he had called friends. His pride-clouded judgement had cost them their lives, his anger and arrogance had clouded his mind. His men did not blame him, none of them showed any sign of regret or spite towards him - at least, he had not seen any, and still their ranks grew day by day as more refugees join the cause.
Lord Dagon had gone to see the messenger from Draco Castle again, after the man had rested, and had gotten the full story. So much swarmed in Dagon’s head now, he almost had the means he was sure to take his castle back, but Draco needed him more - his family was there, his friends were there. The man that had killed his two finest friends was there, fooling everyone with his disguise as Prince Berrit. Rage flooded him again at that thought - both Tundal and Borrack were dead by this shape-shifting wizard’s hand.
“I am almost positive that this wizard back in Draco Castle is the reason that the savages are attacking in full force and are so well organized,” Dagon said to the small group of men that sat around the fire. Lord Andras and his eldest son, along with their army’s General, were among those men.
“It would make a lot of sense,” Lord Andras replied, scratching at his several day old beard. “I did notice that Prince Berrit seemed a little off on our journey to Draco Kingdom, and the timing seems plausible.”
“What are we waiting for then? Let us march to Draco Castle and kill this bastard that is pretending to be our Prince!” Andras’ son, Kain, barked excitedly, drawing a few cheers from the soldiers around.
“That would be a very foolish move, I am afraid,” Jarroth said. Kain began to snarl something, but Andras raised a hand, cutting him off..
“Jarroth is right,” Andras said. “That would let this wizard know we know who he is. We do not know what he is capable of and we cannot risk the lives in Draco Castle like that,” Andras elucidated with a sigh. He had brought his son along with him in the hopes of teaching the boy a thing or two about war strategies and how a Lord must think and act, with all the things that needed to be accounted and considered. Like most boys, all he wanted was blood and glory.
“Then what are we to do?” Kain asked, confused and slightly annoyed at his idea being shot down. “If we go, that gives us away…but if we do not, then nothing happens and things get worse.”
“I must go back alone,” Dagon said, ceasing his endless pace around the fire.
“That would be suicide!” Jarroth barked back.
“I must! It is the only way that anyone will be able to get close enough to him. He will be on guard if too many show up, but if I go alone…” Dagon said, trailing off.
“How will you do it?” Andras asked. “How will you announce yourself? What will be your reason for returning?”
“I will go back in the hopes of convincing them to give me more men. I will tell him we have a foolproof plan to take Mandrake back, but I need more support and supplies,” Dagon replied.
“And then?” Kain asked, eager to learn.
“And then I will kill him the first chance I get and free Draco Kingdom from his growing grasp,” Dagon answered, his tone deadly.
“What do you want us to do?” asked Andras.
“Butcher every last one of those heathen bastards that rest in my home!” Dagon finished, his tone going colder with each word.
“I cannot let you go to Draco alone,” Jarroth told him angrily.
“I must, my friend,” Dagon sighed, knowing Jarroth’s mind. “I need you here more than I need you with me in Draco.”
“Why?” Jarroth asked, sounding almost hurt.
“Because you know this land and Mandrake castle just as well as Dagon himself,” Andras cut in before Dagon had a chance to. “I will need your knowledge and insight.”
Jarroth looked from Andras to Dagon, he wanted more than that, but knew they were right and nothing more needed to be said. Finally, he begrudgingly nodded his agreement.
“I leave you two in charge of taking back Mandrake, my land and my home,” Dagon said. Anguish and anger crossed his face – the other man bowed respectfully in acknowledgement.
“We will vanquish every last savage that has tainted your home with their filthy presence!” Lord Andras promised him, drawing a loud cheer from those around him.
Seeing all the men around - both Zandorians and his own countrymen, together in union - fighting for the same cause, brought a smile to his face and lifted a great weight from his shoulders. This is what King Borrack had wanted, what he had fought so long for, and what he had died for. This changed Dagon’s whole attitude towards his neighbors and knew this day was the start of something great. Lord Andras had come all this way to help him, not for his own gain, not for his own reasons, but because Mandrake needed help.
“Watch your back, my friend,” Jarroth told Dagon later that evening when they were alone and Dagon was getting ready to leave.
“I shall, my friend,” Dagon replied, truly wishing his friend could come with him. Jarroth had been by his side since they had both joined the army, so very many years before. Had it not been for Jarroth’s wit and swift blade, Dagon would have been dead long ago.
“I will see that we have Mandrake back and looking as she was before you return,” Jarroth told him, though Dagon knew it was an impossible task, but the gesture and honour meant more than the deed itself.
“Aye, and I will bring you back the head of
a shape-shifter,” Dagon replied as he and his friend downed two large mugs of ale.
Before the first rays of the sun had blessed the sky, Lord Dagon was traveling hard towards Draco Castle, with a small escort of twenty men. Lord Andras and Jarroth had insisted he take more but Dagon had refused, knowing it would take every man they had to win Mandrake back.
“Jarroth! Lord Andras!” A scout cried, running up to the two who stood staring at the rising sun.
“What is it?” They both asked in unison, turning their attention to the man.
“We have sighted another large war party traveling west to Dragon’s Cove with more supplies and reinforcements!” The scout explained, the words coming out in a hurried rush.
“Let the butchering begin!” Andras said, drawing a wide smile from Jarroth.
Chapter 3
Zada pushed closed the thick, stone-slabbed door and put the sturdy locking bar in place, ignoring the angry noises that came from the other side. She had hoped that coming down here would improve her mood. Instead, it had only soured further. She should have known - her visits down here never seemed to go as planned.
With a final look at the door she turned and began down the granite encased corridor, taking no pleasure in the ancient decorative carvings as she usually did. Her mind was in a dark place and the gloom of the catacombs only intensified it. She was so caught in her thoughts, that she almost missed the greetings of the current watcher on duty, a man she had known nearly her whole life.
“Everything okay, Zada?” He asked.
She smiled weakly, not wanting to get into it. “Well enough to manage Kilten, thank you.”
“Know I am always here if you need to talk.”
“I know, my friend - maybe one day soon I will take you up on that offer.”
